


2. Explosion

by titC



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Gen, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-18 13:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Clint really didn’t like explosions.





	2. Explosion

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel) for the beta!  


Clint really didn’t like explosions.

First of all, they were explodey. No, wait, that was totally a word. And it didn’t even need explaining, too!

So, here it was: Clint really didn’t like explosions, because they made everything worse. Things (and sometimes people) turned into smaller bits flying everywhere at high velocity, for a start. Those sucked. Shrapnel: very pain, much bad, highly dangerly. Yup. Plus shrapnel happened when you were close enough to get other charming stuff like broken bones, squashed lungs, and fucked-up guts: all things that made you cough blood and stay in the hospital for weeks while hooked up to more machines than he had teeth in his mouth. Shut up, he still had most of them, okay? Yes, even with his Avengers job. And occasional not-Avengers jobs. And, you know, whatever; his teeth were doing _great_, thank you very much.

Explosions also threw you against buildings, made stuff collapse on you, could leave nasty burns, all kinds of bad shit.

So, yeah, explosions: nope.

Oh, and there was the ear damage, too; but Clint was covered. He already had all the ear damage he could get – well, not _all_, but it really was bad enough. Explosions just destroyed his aids, but they had an inner bit that turned into some sort of protective foam whenever the outer bit would go boom, so while his hearing was bad it only stayed _bad_ and didn’t get _worse_.

He would just like to never, ever, _ever_ be anywhere near an explosion again. It hadn’t even been a ‘bad guy plants bombs to hurt civilians’ this time, oh no. It had been a gas leak from shittty building maintenance, courtesy of Simone’s sister’s old landlord.

Simone had recruited him to help with Nina’s move to a newer, better place; he hadn’t said no, you know? He liked them (and their parents’ sense of humor, but joking about their names was Not Allowed). So he came, carried boxes, helped with furniture, all of it. On the last sweep of the old place, he noticed a smell – a smell that didn’t bode well.

“Did you turn off the gas?”

“I did, yeah. I’m telling you, Clint, I’m glad I’m leaving; this place is a mess. Electricity is a fire hazard, gas pipes need changing, pretty sure there’s asbestos in some walls too.”

“Ugh. Well, let’s get out of here and never come back, then.”

“Definitely. Can you take this last box down? I need to get the dolly back to the shop next door.”

“Sure can, meet you at the van!”

And then the side of the building blew off right as he was getting out.

Good thing the building had been mostly empty, yeah? Clint was the only person seriously injured, and really he’d been in worse shape before. Yes, Nat, he totally had, stop rolling your eyes. Thank you for bringing the spare aids and some fresh clothes, but _please_. No more looking at the ceiling, okay?

“You look like the brokenest marksman in the world, Clint.” Hawkeye the second was looking with a very critical eye at the amount of plaster, bandages and gauze all over him. So judgey, the young ones.

“Look, I know it looks bad, but…” Sure, it also felt really, really bad; but he wasn’t about to say that. A guy had his pride, right?

“Your neighbor is feeling very guilty, and so is her sis.”

“Not their fault.” He _was_ going to sue the landlord, though.

“Nah, it’s not, but they’re currently planning a welcome back party for when you’re released.”

Oh boy. Clint was already looking forward to it. “I’m out tomorrow.” Nat and Kate gave him twin stares. “Haha. Joking?” Twin nods. Fine, in two days then. He was totally going to sign himself out as soon as he could. Next week, maybe. Ow. Ow ow ow. Two weeks?

“I’ll go talk to the doc,” Nat said. “Can’t trust you with these things.” She narrowed her eyes at his (many) casts (unless it was all one cast, really, guess you could see it that way too?) before leaving. Threatening his bones to knit faster, maybe? Who knew, with her. And he was perfectly trustable. Why didn’t she trust him?

Anyway, so much _ow_. Okay, nice things, he should think of nice things. “Pizza dog?”

“He’s fine, left him with your neighbors. I’ll pick him up tonight.”

“Kate,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I hate explosions.”

“Me too, Clint. Me too.”

He lifted the one fist he could move at least two inches up and she bumped it with hers.

“You take care, Katie Kate, yeah?”

She grinned. “And you stay put and heal, okay?”

He let the meds pull him under after she left, and dreamed of fireworks and rooftop barbecues.


End file.
